Resolution
by HazyHarlot
Summary: Spencer decides to talk less.
1. Chapter 1

Trigger Warning: Character Death, schizophrenia, self-mutilation, depression, drug usage, murder and sexual abuse.

* * *

><p>It was exactly two hours until midnight, the time of day when the date changed. The next midnight would start the New Year, 2015. Tomorrow would be the first of January, it will be Spencer's twelve-thousand, one hundred and thirty-seventh day living. This didn't include his time in the womb, as he didn't know his exact date of conception or even know if he could consider living inside another person and leeching their nutrients and blood really living.<p>

The plane would land in twenty minutes and approximately thirty-five minutes after that the team would be exiting Quantico and heading home. It would take Spencer five minutes of walking to reach Quantico station. That means he would arrive at the station in sixty minutes, or one hour. Spencer would catch the 11:22pm train and arrive one hour and twelve minutes later at Union Station. The walk from the station to his apartment would take twelve minutes. This means that Spencer would start the New Year on a train, not that he had planned on celebrating. He didn't like loud parties or drinking alcohol. He had no desire to watch the dropping of an illuminated pear, a ball, a ten-foot star or the times square ball being raised.

Spencer glanced at his watch again, it was six past ten now, or 22:06, or fifty-four to eleven and fifty four until twenty three. He sighed quietly and rearranged the silver watch over his dark purple sleeve.

Personally, he preferred the twenty-four hour system but that would mean buying a new watch, the added numbers would make it bigger than his current perfect sized watch  
>so he would probably need to look into digital watches, which would be silent. He didn't particularly like the sound of his ticking watch but constant ticking helped him not lose track of time and constantly reminded him not to waste it. The ticking was a constant reminder of his mortality.<p>

The team on the plane consisted of himself, Supervisory Special Agent Reid. Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. SSA Derek Morgan, a former Unit Chief. SSA Jennifer Jareau, previously a communications liaison. Senior SSA David Rossi and SSA Kate Callahan, the newest addition to the team. Not on the plane was the team's technical analyst, Penelope Garcia.

The plane was silent as everyone except Spencer and Hotch were sleeping. He looked over his teammates every few minutes, Morgan was sleeping with headphones on and JJ had fallen asleep with an opened packet of cheetos on her lap. Rossi, who was sitting across from Spencer had fallen asleep while looking out the window when Spencer was talking about the Lakki Marwat suicide bombing. Kate had fallen asleep with her phone in hand, probably looking at the photos of animals in Christmas themed clothing that Garcia had sent her.

They, the team, had been in New York for eleven days looking for an unknown subject that had abducted and murdered several women. The women had all been working as 'Santa's elves' in Manhattan Mall. Their job was to pick the child up if necessary and put them on Santa's knee, make sure they're looking at the camera, make sure they're smiling, take a photo, print it and give it to the parents.

Their bodies were found in dumpsters, all in sleeping bag sized Christmas stockings. At first, they thought since the bodies were found naked and in the stockings it had to do with the common practice of newborns being brought home in Christmas stockings in December. The unsub turned out to be the elderly aged 'Santa', but he didn't work the same shift as the victims. It was Reid's suggestion that there could be a connection with the victims and newborns which led the team nowhere, wasting four days which could have been spent actually finding the killer. If he hadn't suggested anything they would have realised the stockings were used out of convenience and opportunity and not for ritualistic reasons much faster. If he hadn't suggested anything they could have solved the case before Christmas and the rest of the team could have spent the Holiday with their family. He felt the Grinch, stealing Christmas away from the team. He felt even worse knowing they wouldn't be with their families for the last day of the year.

Spencer checked the time again, 10:15 or 22:15. He looked over at Hotchner who had been looking at him, the two made eye contact for a split second before Spencer looked down and rearranged himself in preparation for the plane landing. He debated whether or not to wake up anyone but decided not to. He took away their Christmas, their chance to plan something for New Year and time with their families. He wasn't going to take away their sleep, even if it was only a few minutes. The rest of the team started to wake when the turbulence started. Morgan yawned and removed his headphones, JJ put the unfinished bag of Cheetos in her handbag. Kate stuffed her phone in her pocket and Rossi rubbed his eyes.

"Only one hour and forty five minutes until New Year," Morgan announced, cracking a smile.

The newest addition to the team groaned, "I told Meg I would be home by now."

"Is it really almost 12am?" JJ asked while looking at the time on her phone.

He spoke up, "Actually when it's exactly twelve o'clock, noon or midnight, it's incorrect to use 'am' or 'pm'. 'Am' is ante meridiem or before noon and 'pm' post meridiem, after noon. Since noon can't be before noon and midnight is equally twelve hours after noon it can't be before or after noo-," Reid was interrupted by Morgan.

"Give it a rest kid, you should make your New Years resolution to talk less." Morgan was definitely not using a joking tone. Spencer bit the inside of his lip, trying to figure out if he should apologise. He decided against it.

Morgan got off the plane first, followed by Kate and then JJ. He waited for Rossi to get off before he even thought about standing. He stood after Hotch started walking to the door, "You didn't sleep." Hotch stated as Spencer followed behind him, going down the airstairs of the small plane.

"You didn't sleep either," Spencer pointed out. "I had too much caffeine in my system...Sorry you didn't get the spend Christmas with Jack. Sorry I was wrong," He apologised softly.

"You can't get it right every time, no one is perfect." The Unit Chief turned to look at Spencer, it was a team he worked on and he wasn't going to throw Spencer under the bus and blame him for the delay in investigating the right leads.

"Do you mind if I get my paperwork tomorrow? If I leave now I can get the early train," Reid lied, the next train wouldn't arrive for an hour. "I also need to memorise the new timetable." That part wasn't a lie, the times really were changing for the New Year. In Spencer's mind adding some truth to his lie made it less of a lie.

"Of course, Reid. Happy New Year." Hotch offered Spencer one of his genuine smiles.

"Happy New Year," Spencer returned the saying and smiled back before turning away from the man.

Morgan's suggested resolution didn't seem like such a bad idea after this case. If he didn't talk so much and spent more time thinking before talking then the case could have been solved in less than half the time. He decided to make the suggested resolution his real one. Spencer Reid was going to talk less.


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer looked up at the starry sky, figuring out what to do while waiting for his train to arrive. First, he needed to choose which bench to sit on. There were two benches on the platform, he decided on the far right bench which was next to the notice board. He placed his bag carefully on the bench but didn't sit. He looked over the notice board and quickly located the new timetable, reading it in his head several times before noticing his own reflection, his hair was messy and his face appeared more pale than usual with the moonlight. He made eye contact with himself and put off blinking until his eyes started to water. Spencer gently rubbed the moisture out of his eyes and sat beside his bag. He thought about his reflection and considered a hair cut, a small walk downtown would lead him to several barber shops. He could go in the morning if he wanted to. Considering the pros and cons, Spencer decided he did not want to cut his hair. He wanted to grow it out again, just enough to be able to hide his face if he needed.

It was ten thirty-four post meridiem. Forty eight minutes until the train was supposed to be here. He could read, but his eyes were starting to hurt and it was dark. Spencer had been awake for twenty hours now. It felt more like fifty with his team not talking to him unless necessary after they discovered his suggestion was completely wrong. On Christmas he only received a direct 'Merry Christmas' from Rossi and Kate. He had tried to call his mother on Christmas day but it turned out she was on another supervised vacation, he was happy for her but slightly hurt she left without telling him again. The new medication seemed to be treating his mothers symptoms almost perfectly. He wondered if she could ever live on her own and actually take care of herself without assistance. He wondered how his life would be different if she never had schizophrenia in the first place. Spencer would probably have siblings because his mother wouldn't need to go off medication if she got pregnant and his father probably wouldn't have left.

The train would be here in thirty minutes now. His time on the train would take one hour and twelve minutes. It takes Spencer six minutes to walk home from his stop, Union Station. He would be home at twelve forty. He will be showered and in bed by one ante meridiem.

Spencer put his satchel on his lap and looked down at the pavement when he heard footsteps. _Please don't sit near me_. It was unlikely someone would choose to sit next to him when there was an empty bench less than twenty feet away. Unfortunately, the footsteps got closer until they came at a stop and the bench shifted from someone else taking a seat. Would it would be offensive if he walked to the other bench? Probably. He moved his head slightly, getting a look at the strangers legs. Definitely Female. The stranger played on her phone for several minutes before putting it away in her was a click and for a few split seconds he could see an orange glow in his peripherals.

"Six minutes," He said without thinking.

"Hm? I thought the train was here at 11:22," She said while starting to open her handbag, presumably to find her copy of the timetable.

"Not the train, the cigarette. One cigarette takes away six minutes of your life. I used to say it to my mother to get her to stop smoking," He said quickly, trying to his explain his statement.

"Oh, I heard it was 11 minutes," She said while inhaling the toxic smoke.

"That was an estimated amount for the average man, I did my own calculations based on my mothers lifestyle to be more accurate. It could be taking away more or less depending on how many cigarettes you smoke a day and your current health status." Spencer rambled on, he always did.

"Well, you must really care about your mother then," The stranger smiled and looked at Spencer, who was still keeping his eyes on her denim covered legs.

"Everyone should," He sat up straight and looked at the train tracks.

"Mothers can be bad parents," She reminded.

"I know, I'm with the FBI. I've met multiple mothers who have harmed their children intentionally."

"FBI?" The stranger coughed slightly, "Unexpected."

"Is it? Why?" He looked at her, she was definitely younger than him. Blonde, although he couldn't tell if it was natural or not.

"You just seemed open," She paused, "Not hiding your feelings, telling me about your life. It's not what I would expect from an FBI agent."

"What would you expect?" He inquired.

"Oh, you know. Big strong men with firearms saving the day like in the movies," She giggled while taking another drag.  
>Spencer slowly nodded. He understood, He definitely looked the opposite of strong.<p>

"Sorry," She leaned closer and put her free hand on Spencer's knee. He jerked his leg away, making the stranger frown. "Is something wrong?

"I don't like being touched," He put his bag between them, using it as a small barrier. "Don't take it personally."

"Ohhhh," The woman nodded, as though she had just solved a math problem in her head. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Won't happen again," She assured before picking up her packet of cigarettes and looking at Spencer, "Do you want one?" She offered, as part of her apology.

Spencer looked down at the cigarette packet, it was different than most. It was reflective like foil and the dimensions of the box were longer than the standard cigarette packet. 'Vogue' was printed on the packet in partial cursive. "Sure," Spencer said awkwardly while using his fingers to pick out one of the tightly packed cigarettes, it was longer than most and much slimmer. "Thank you," He looked away from her and started opening his bag, finding a pocket where it wouldn't be destroyed. The last thing he needed was tobacco sprinkled through his bag.

"I have a lig-," The woman started before Spencer cut her off.

"I'm not looking for a lighter, I don't smoke," He said quickly before standing, eyeing the unmistakable train lights in the distance. The stranger didn't reply, she was definitely confused. She stood to get ready for the train, she was shorter than Spencer but taller than JJ.

Spencer chose to sit in the quiet carriage, there were always less people and combining that with the time of day the carriage was close to empty. He rested his feet on the seat across from himself and took the cigarette out of his satchel to inspect, the filter was white instead of the traditional orange. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with it and slightly regretted accepting it. He wasn't very good at saying 'No' to women. He put the cigarette back in his bag and started thinking about his resolution.

He would still talk to the team, but only about relevant things. He would stop rambling to them and wouldn't talk about the same subject for more than a few minutes. He would re-think about all ideas for several minutes instead of just saying them out loud when they came to his mind. These 'rules' only applied with his team members. He could still talk to mother, acquaintances (if not work related) and strangers without limiting himself.


	3. Chapter 3

As estimated, Spencer was just getting into bed at one ante meridien. He sat up in the bed and stretched before reaching for transparent orange prescription bottle with no label. Inside the bottle was small white circular pills. He took out two and swallowed them with a mouthful of water from a two week old glass on his wooden bedside table.

Despite being six foot tall he only took up a quarter of his Queen sized bed when bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to stay as warm as possible. It was a slightly uncomfortable position to be in while laying down (it was a quite cosy and comfortable when sitting) but he rarely woke up in the same position. Spencer had taken one fifth of a milligram of clonidine, a drug which caused drowsiness for him. It was normally used to treat high blood pressure and insomnia in adolescents. He chose to take this medication because it wasn't addictive like other medications for insomnia. Spencer had not been diagnosed with insomnia and could get to sleep on his own (after several hours of waiting) the pills were much more convenient and reliable.

Spencer woke up as though he was recovering from blinking, not a six hour slumber. He sat up quickly which made his head spin. He tried to stay as still as possible while his eyes adjusted to the morning light. He rarely slept with his blinds shut, only when trying to sleep in daytime or if had planned to sleep in. He hadn't been afraid of the dark in his own apartment for several years but preferred to slept with a light on in new surroundings. When his head had stopped spinning he pulled the heavy grey blankets off of his body and headed for the bathroom.

The floor tiles were coyote brown and the wall tiles in viridian. It was a small bathroom but he didn't need anything bigger. He only needed room for the essentials. Towels, hand towels, '2 in 1 Shampoo and Conditioner', shaving cream, disposable safety razors, antiperspirant, a pack of toothbrushes, floss, soap, Q-tips, nail clippers, toilet paper, a first aid kit, bubblegum flavoured toothpaste, hand soap, tweezers and a bottle of tylenol. All of these items fit into a small wooden cabinet which was across from the toilet and next to his silver framed full length mirror. Hidden in the cabinet was a small amount of dilaudid. Spencer had decided he would never illegally inject or swallow anything he could get addicted to but it was somewhat comforting to know if he needed it, it was there.

He twisted the metal shower knobs, first 'Cold' then 'Hot'. He adjusted and waited until the temperature was ideal he started to undress. He undressed quickly, throwing his red button up pyjamas, mismatched socks & underwear into the tall laundry hamper. He looked down at his body and inspected his awkward proportions. His calves were normal sized, if not slightly smaller. His thighs were slim, if he didn't have knees you would think his calves just extended to his hips. His hips were narrow and his ilium was jutting through his pasty skin. His waistline was below average due to his lack of body fat and muscle mass. He used the mirror to look at his shoulders and collar bones. His shoulders weren't as broad as Morgans, but Morgan's collar bones weren't as prominent. His upper-arms could have been a quarter of the size of Morgans and he could see his carpal and metacarpal bones moving under his skin. He wondered how deep of a wound he would need to be able to physically touch his skeletal structure.

He pondered his resolution while standing under the powerful water steam. Seventy four percent of people maintain their resolution through the first week of the year, this drops four percent a week later and drops seven percent after the first month. There was only a forty-six percent chance he could maintain his resolution for six months. Only 8 percent of people achieved their New Years resolution in 2014. He knew people were more likely to stick to his resolution if he set small goals or had some kind of reward system to encourage them.

"But what kind of goals and rewards could I have?" He asked himself out loud. _'Stop myself from making a bad joke ten times', 'Stop myself from interrupting fives times'_.  
>He knew if he stuck to his resolution the only thing he could achieve was his teammates being less annoyed with him and his work performance could improve. He knew those achievements were a long time away and he would need smaller objectives in order to reach them. He decided that when he felt the urge to state something irrelevant, try to say something entertaining or talk to someone who was busy he would have a small piece of hard candy. The candy would reward him for being quiet and at the same time prevent him from talking.<p>

"Capitol Hill Supermarket," He told himself while trying to recall where the largest varieties of candies were. "I'll leave twenty minutes earlier than usual," Spencer decided as he completed his outfit by putting on his watch. 8:03am. It was an eleven minute walk to the supermarket, he would spend no more than four minutes inside. He would walk for six minutes to union station. He would catch the 8:45am train and arrive at Quantico station at 9:44am. He would normally leave at 8:35am meaning today he would leave at 8:15am, or in twelve minutes. Spencer decided there was no time for breakfast and he would buy coffee at the station, the hard candy he planned on eating throughout the day would make up for his lack of breakfast.

He emptied his beloved satchel onto his unmade bed and picked out the things he definitely needed. His revolver, badge and wallet. He unzipped the small compartment in his satchel where he kept the cigarette, it was sitting with his riboflavin and magnesium. The two supplements suggested to him by Maeve prevented his migraines.  
>He decide to keep the cigarette in the small pocket. He was occasionally asked if he had any cigarettes, while waiting for the train, multiple people have been upset with his answer of 'No'. A quarter of the satchels contents was rubbish, Spencer didn't like to littering so when there was no bin around he pocketed his rubbish or held it until a bin was spotted.<p>

He put on his satchel with the neck strap and headed to the kitchen, rubbish in hand. After putting the rubbish in the bin he grabbed a bottle of room temperature water off the counter and unplugged his phone from it's charger. He added the two objects into his satchel before double checking his windows were locked and his taps weren't dripping. He made an effort to be quiet when he was leaving, not wanting to disturb the sleep of anyone in the building. He checked his watch, 8:16am.


	4. Chapter 4

It was cold, but he didn't plan on being outside for much longer. He brushed his damp hair out of his face and started to walk, the wind would dry his hair by the time he arrived at the station.  
>He took a left as always but instead of continuing straight at the end of the block where the station was he took a right then walked along a slightly curved path before taking another left which placed him in a beeline to the supermarket.<br>Despite the name, he didn't really considered the store a 'Supermarket'. It was more of a convenience store that sold meat and seasonal produce.

"Oh, sorry." Spencer said instinctively to the inanimate object when his attempt to open the stores door was unsuccessful. Assuming he had pulled a door that needed to be pushed, he tried pushing it. Nothing changed. It wasn't opening. He quickly scanned the door to look for opening times, his eyes were drawn to a white piece of paper with large black letters.  
><strong>'Open New Years Day, 8:30am - 11:30pm<strong>'.  
>He checked his watch, 8:27am. He looked around, seeing if there was anyone who looked like they were about to open the store. No one. He started to shiver, being outside this long was not part of his plan. Spencer took a seat on one of the two benches outside the store and waited patiently for someone to appear.<p>

When he heard the sound of someone parking and closing their car door he looked down, a preventative measure so no strangers would talk to him. It worked most of the time. He looked at his mismatched socks like they were the most interesting thing in the world, today one of his socks was carmine and the other was olive. He wasn't sure when he started disliking being approached by strangers, he used to interact with adults daily when he was a child. He would play chess, discuss literature and unsolved mysteries. He used to have hour long conversations with adults surprised by his intellect but now he could only talk for a few minutes before someone's body language showed they wanted to leave the conversation. He tried to recall the exact point when people started wanting him to stop talking instead of talking more, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the supermarkets doors being unlocked.

"Morning," A shorter man nodded, he was older than Spencer but younger than Rossi. He decided on the man being in his mid forties to very early fifties.

"Morning," Spencer stammered back.

"Forget your coat?" The older man chuckled while making his way behind the single checkout counter, turning on the register. Spencer was only wearing wearing a fallow coloured sweater vest with a cerulean dress shirt and navy trousers. He wore black canvas shoes with white laces and soles.

Spencer nodded as a reply and headed to the colourful aisle where the candy was kept. He decided on a bag containing 100 individually wrapped pieces of fruit flavoured hard candy and a chocolate bar for lunch. He walked back to the front of the store and placed the items down on the counter.

"It takes a minute to start," The man nodded in the direction of the modern looking cash register. "So, you've got a sweet tooth?" He attempted to make conversation.  
>Spencer shrugged awkwardly. He was unsure on how to answer the question. He had difficulty having to say something that wasn't a statistic or fact.<p>

"My wife thought no one would be buying sweets today, last year no one bought any at the start of January."

"Attempting to lose weight and make healthy choices was the most frequent resolution last year. It's probably going to be the same this year," He informed, facts coming to his rescue so he could contribute to the conversation.

"My daughter's already joined a gym," The stranger chuckled, most of his teeth were in poor shape. Spencer started shivering again, glancing at the register and waiting for it to be ready to use. He reached into his bag, searching for his wallet.

"Oh, that's right. I need to turn the heat on," The man behind the counter said while disappearing into a door and returning after a few moments. "Alright. That'll be five-fifty. Do you need a bag?" He said after scanning the two items. Spencer shook his head and placed a few notes from his wallet on the counter.

"We have some jumpers," The store owner nodded to a small pile of bagged jumpers on the counter. "One for five dollars, they're half priced for shivering people," He said in a joking manner.  
>Spencer inspected the pile of packaged jumpers, they had ten dollar price stickers on them. He was shivering and they were half price, there was no reason <em>not<em> to buy one.

"Sure," Spencer smiled slightly, leaving his change on the counter and adding a few extra bills to it. He went through the jumpers without disrupting the pile, two were pink in with one in medium and the other in small. Three were black, one small and two larges along with one grey in large. He decided that grey was the safest of the three colours. The man put the received money in the register and watched Spencer rip through the plastic casing, unfold the jumper and put it on.

"Thank you," He stammered from the shivering while putting the candy in his satchel along with the rubbish from the jumper packaging.

"Happy New Year" The man grinned and waved. Spencer waved back as he left the store, feeling a little silly.

It was 8:38am now, the train would be there in seven minutes. He frowned at the ground, there wouldn't be enough time to get coffee. He walked at a brisk pace to Union Station and went straight to the platform, on the way he had apologised to at least four people who had bumped into him and a wall he almost walked into. He didn't need to buy a ticket as he had a six month pass, it expired in two months. He caught his reflection, this time in the train windows. He examined how the jumper looked. It was baggy and stopped just under his crotch but the length made up for its lack of thickness, the sleeves were also long but at least he didn't need gloves to keep his fingers warm. He would remove the hooded jumper after arriving at Quantico station and replace it with the jumper he kept at his desk. The other jumper was more fitted, thick and would permit him to use his hands while working. Spencer chose to sit next to the window and place his bag on the seat beside to him, he always tried to get the seats at the end of the carriage on the way to work. This was so no one could sit across from him and his bag made sure no one sat next to him, although he wouldn't be opposed to letting someone sit beside him if the train was crowded.

As the train started to move Spencer started to think about Nathan Harris. Nathan Harris would be turning twenty-four this year. He was still institutionalised, Spencer hasn't visited him. When he thought of Nathan Harris two things came to mind. Firstly, something he had said to the young man. _"Who we are is, it's constantly evolving. I'm a lot older than you, and I'm changing all the time, this job changes me. You've changed me."_ The second thing was the phone call from the prostitute who witnessed Nathan, using her words, 'Slashing himself up.' He remembered the amount of blood on his own hands and how warm it was. He used a white towel to try and get the blood off and he needed to cut his fingernails to remove the blood from them. He remembered Gideon telling him how he saved Nathan's life. He thought about Gideon for a few minutes before going back to thinking about the day Nathan attempted suicide. He remembered Garcia being forceful in getting him to get up so he could 'Hit the town' with her. No one had really been forceful when they planned to do something outside of work with him for a long time, not like Garcia had been. He wondered if she would still be that assertive if she wanted to spend time with him now. Probably not.  
>He thought about Kate, who had offered to bring her thirteen year old niece Meg to meet Spencer sometime. He told he would like that. Would he? Probably not. He didn't have much in common with teenage girls, but he probably wouldn't decline an invitation to meet her. He really needed to work on saying 'No' this year. He opened his bag and took out the bottle of water, sipping on the clear liquid. He tried to pinpoint when he had lost his social confidence. He graduated high school with shyness and anxiety. Before high school he was just shy and in elementary school he was an awkward teachers pet.<p>

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts after being harshly poked on the shoulder.

"Ticket," An annoyed woman requested while staring down at him.

He looked up at her and let go of the wool-like hood adjusters he was unconsciously fiddling with while thinking about his past. He silently opened his satchel and pulled out his wallet, finding the plastic pass and handing it to her. She snatched it away and inspected the card. She flicked the card back at Spencer before leaving the carriage with a huff. He checked his wallet before putting it back, he had just enough money to buy a coffee at Quantico station. He went back to his thoughts. By the time train stopped at Quantico station he knew exactly when he started becoming shy and anxious. His anxiety problems started when his mothers unpredictable episodes got to the point where she couldn't take care of herself, even when she was functioning Spencer constantly worried about her accidentally hurting herself while he was at school. He would call his Aunt Ethel when it was absolutely necessary and his mother would take her medication for a short amount of time after his Aunt left but even on the medication Diana still had episodes, they just weren't as severe.

Spencer despised his Aunt. She was a rude, entitled and the kind of person that talked about other people behind their backs but acted like an angel to their face. When she had helped Spencer take care of Diana she constantly complained and wouldn't hold back on her profanity just because Spencer was in the room. She complained about Diana being so unappreciative of her help, she complained about her husband needing to take testosterone and how they didn't have a satisfying sexual relationship, she even told Spencer how much of a bad person his Father was for leaving. The first time he wanted to forget anything was a the first night his Aunt Ethel had taken advantage of him. He didn't like to think of himself as abused, especially after he had met people who had been severely traumatised. In comparison, what happened to him was nothing. Even if he didn't consider himself abused most professionals would consider him neglected by a mentally ill parent and sexually abused by a relative. His shyness came from him not wanting to talk to people his own age who were on a lower intellectual level because he frequently confused them, this stunted his social skills.

As planned Spencer went into the Quantico station coffee shop and told the barista what he wanted. While no employees were watching, he quickly opened his satchel. He double checked other people ordering drinks couldn't see him before stealthily grabbing a handful of sugar packets and stuffing them in his bag. After receiving his coffee he paid and went to the unisex bathroom. He locked the door and put the cardboard cup next to the sink along with a few of the sugar packets he had taken. He removed the oversized hooded jumper, folded it and stuffed it into his bag. He made sure his revolver, badge, wallet and candy were on top of the jumper. He added four of the packaged sugar into his coffee and put the rubbish in the bathroom bin along with the packaging from the jumper. He had started adding sugar to his coffee in private after the barista had told him he was greedy, it was probably a joke but he didn't want it to happen again. He left the bathroom, coffee house and station. He sipped at the coffee while looking up at the building where he worked. It was 9:50am, Hotch was normally the only one there that early. He could get the paperwork from yesterday and be doing it before everyone else arrived, they wouldn't approach him if he was working but the paperwork wouldn't take more than an hour. They normally would have at least a thirty six hours between group cases so it was unlikely they would be discussing an unknown subject as a group today. He started shivering again. He walked into the building and headed for the elevator, pressing number '6'. He recalled the first time he had a conversation with Kate, it was in the elevator. He initiated the interaction by mentioning he had seen her before. He would take the stairs from now on.

* * *

><p>AN : If you've forgotten about Nathan Harris the episode he appears in is Season 2 Episode 11 Sex, Birth, Death.<p>

Sorry if the spelling of some words are different in your country!


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer tapped the side of his thigh while watching the small black screen above the elevator doors. The screen digitally displayed the number of the floor he was passing, he watched the red numbers come and go. One, two, three, four, five, six and stop. The shiny elevator doors opened and he walked down the empty grey hall before taking a right and reaching the glass doors with black handles. He carefully pushed one of the two doors with his free hand and walked into the mostly empty office bullpen. He didn't try to silence his shivering, there were only three other people and they weren't close enough to hear his chattering teeth.

His desk was in the shape of a right angle with a desktop where the corner was. To his left was stationary and to his right was multiple piles of files. He carefully placed his coffee on the dark wooden desks surface and took off his satchel. From the satchel he removed the bag of hard candy, milk chocolate and water bottle. He opened the packet of candy and put a handful of the individually wrapped lollies in his satchel before putting the packet away in the drawer on the left side of the desk. The bar of milk chocolate stayed on his desk with the water bottle and coffee. His desk had moved multiple times while working for the FBI. The spot he was currently in definitely had perks. This was his first time having a desk that didn't connect to another persons, not that it was a huge problem to be sitting across from someone. There was just no one he really wanted to sit across from. Nothing could compare to sitting across from Elle, even if she sneaked some of her workload onto his desk. The desk did have downsides though, directly behind him was a set of stairs leading out of the bullpen and to his right was the bullpen walls which stopped at his chin. This meant peoples feet were less than a foot away from his ear most of the time and that anyone using the stairs or walking around the bullpen could see what he was doing. He didn't slack off and would never be caught doing anything he shouldn't but privacy was always nice.

After sitting he reached for the drawer on the right side of the desk and got out a thick grey jumper that hadn't left the sixth floor in over a decade. Now that he thought about it, he really should wash it. He made sure no one was looking before smelling the jumper. He could smell a brand of antiperspirant he hadn't used in months and the scent of coffee but it wasn't unpleasant. He shrugged to himself and put the jumper on. The sleeves stopped at his wrist and the length ended an inch after his belt loops. The jumper was a little baggy in his midsection but his clothing never fit perfectly, he didn't like trying things on and rarely shopped anywhere that wasn't a thrift store. He preferred baggy clothing while working anyway, he didn't like making it obvious he was on the scrawny side. He always got embarrassed when someone made a comment on his body, even if it was a compliment. Although compliments related to his appearance were extremely rare and he could count all of them on both hands. The worst comment he had received to date was from his mother. 'That's why you're so skinny'. Even though it wasn't a direct insult like 'Pipe cleaner with eyes' the little comment his mother made when he was pouring coffee meant a lot. Spencer wasn't medically underweight but with more than half of the people in the country being overweight or obese he understood why people would classify his body type as 'so skinny.' That wasn't the problem though. The problem was his mother implying coffee made him skinny when that definitely wasn't true. After his father left Spencer only ate when his mother ate unless it was a school lunch or a treat from the teachers. His mother frequently forgot to eat. Spencer permanently lost his appetite on the first school holidays without his Father due to his irregular eating patterns. Food was much more accessible after graduating high school but by then eating felt more like a chore than something enjoyable. Preparing or buying food, putting it in his mouth, chewing, swallowing. It took a lot of effort if you weren't used to eating frequently. Luckily, America did not lack calorie dense foods and reaching his daily caloric needs was easy. However, calorie dense foods weren't guaranteed to be nutritious. It didn't matter how much he slept or how awake he felt, he would always look sleep deprived. If he had received adequate nutrition before and during puberty he would probably have more muscle mass, broader shoulders and he could have even been taller. They were secondary sex characteristics though and not necessary for reproduction. He was thankful for what he had, above average height and laryngeal prominence**.**

He checked his watch, 10:20am. He was at work, he should probably get some work done. He finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the small bin under his desk before making his way to Hotch's office. He did his usual 'Shave and a Haircut' knock and cracked the door open. Hotch knew the knock and didn't need to look up to know it was Spencer.

"I need it by noon" Hotch informed, holding the file in his hand.

"Yes Sir." Spencer grabbed it with his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled it out of the other man's grip.

Normally, he didn't mind the paperwork that came after a case. He even looked forward to it most of the time but this time it had the same amount of appeal as eating did. He couldn't write pages about his thought process, knowledge applied and his role in finding the unsub like he usually would. He barely managed to write a paragraph about his measly contributions. He wrote about how he single handedly delayed the case, that took up more room on the page than what he did right. He finished at 10:46am. He wondered what everyone else had written in their own reports the night before, would they have written about how he delayed the case? Probably.

The team acted like they didn't mind spending Christmas together but Spencer knew they would have all rather been with their families. The team went out to dinner on Christmas, Spencer had insisted on staying behind. They came back a lot happier than they were when they left, they probably wouldn't have come back as happy if he had joined them. Perhaps talking less really was for the best, he had noticed that reactions to him talking weren't positive lately.

"_All the way back to the battle of Saint Scholastica day," Reid nodded and looked around the table. Morgan gave him a look and Rossi had turned to look at him, not actually looking interested in what he was saying._

"_Ok, I'll take the bait, what is the whatever it is that you just said?" Kate said while looking at him._

_As Reid answered her question Garcia's eyes looked around the room. No one commented on the facts he had given to them and Rossi continued discussing the case when Reid had finished like he had never spoken._

He remembered when Morgan, JJ, Hotch, Garcia and Rossi used to 'take the bait'. They didn't anymore. Did this mean they had grown tired of him? Did Kate only ask because no one else would? Does Morgan always give him that look when he opens his mouth? Why was Garcia looking around the room? Was she reacting to his explanation or reacting to the fact he was talking? When had he started annoying them instead of helping them? Did anyone actually want him on the team anymore?

'_Reid, do not ever go away again.'_

He started to smile at the memory of the words Elle had said to him a very long time ago. But did they really count? Elle had said that to him at the start of the 'Fisher King' case. The case that made her stop trusting the team. The case that wouldn't have existed if he didn't write to his mother about the personal lives of his team members. It was _his _fault Elle had left. Sure, they saved Rebecca Bryant from Randall Garner on that case but she was later murdered by Frank Breitkopf.

A lot of people left Spencer, now that he thought about it. Maybe he was being punished for putting his mother in hospital. If he was being punished, it would explain why most things happened to him. But who or what was he being punished by?

It was far more likely that it was his personality that pushed people away. Lila Archer had said hanging out with him was depressing. Ashley Seaver had apologised for starting a conversation with him once. Maeve liked hearing him talk, but she was dead. That was his fault. He should have insisted on helping out sooner, investigated it himself or never confused her previous fiancé for a stalker. That dinner could have been so lovely. Maeve was so lovely.

"Don't think about it," He whispered to himself while putting his pencil down and shutting the file. He needed a distraction. He looked around the bullpen, Kate, Morgan, JJ, Garcia and Rossi were walking in together, laughing. They looked happy, just like when they came back from Christmas dinner without him. It almost looked exactly the same except instead of Hotch there was Garcia and they were all holding cardboard coffee cups. Cardboard cups with the same logo. _Oh_. It hit him like a brick. No. It hit him like _five cardboard coffee cup shaped bricks._ They were together, without him. _Before_ work. If it was after work he could understand. Before work? That wasn't a last minute decision, that took planning. Planning that didn't involve him. He looked down as soon as Garcia looked in his direction, she was coming this way. He pretended not to notice her walking over to avoid an awkward amount of eye contact. She leaned on his desk, he could smell her drink. Definitely not coffee, tea maybe.

"You need your new phone." Garcia told him, "Follow me, darling.." She started to walk away. He didn't get up, just swivelled his black chair around to watch her walk up the stairs behind his desk. She walked straight out of the bullpen and out of sight while making gestures with her free hand. She hadn't realised he wasn't following her yet. She just assumed that he would follow her on demand and kept talking. He wondered how long it would take her to realise he wasn't going to go to her office and that she was going to have to come to him. He continued spinning on his chair slowly for a minute then checked his watch. It was 11:23am. He stood up, stretched and picked up the completed report and walked back to Hotch's office. Just like before he did his usual knock and opened the door. This time Hotch looked up at him.

"There's a recruiting event today. Are you able to go with Rossi?"

"Of course," He nodded and placed the file on Hotch's desk.

"You're leaving at half-past, it starts at one and finishes at three."

It took twenty minutes to set up their presentation, that meant it was at least an hour long drive. He hoped he wasn't expected to drive. He quickly walked over to the coffee station, found his blue mug labeled 'Spencer Reid' and poured himself a coffee, added four teaspoons of sugar, stirred and then drank it all in one go. He carefully washed and dried his mug before putting it back where it belonged.

At his desk he picked up his satchel, adding his bottled water and chocolate.

"Ready?" Rossi asked while looking down at him in the bullpen.

"Yeah, I'm not driving," He said while walking up the stairs. He following Rossi to the elevators. He watched the older man press the button that summoned the elevator to their floor.

"I'm actually going to take the stairs," He said while pointing to the stairwell and turning away from the man. "Please don't tell me you made a resolution to be health-" Rossi's voice was cut off when the stairwell door closed behind him. The stairwell was completely void of sound. Perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

Spencer kept one hand on the metal railing while going down the concrete steps. The stairwell was cool and poorly lit but it was refreshing in comparison to the fluorescently lit elevators that got uncomfortably warm with more than three people inside. The stairs allowed him to move at his own pace, he didn't need to stop at each floor to let someone on or off. Even if he did see someone on the stairs no one would try to make small talk, they would be too busy walking. Elevators were unreliable, there were six elevator related deaths per year and ten-thousand injuries that required hospitalisation. The only way he could hurt himself on the stairs was if he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. He took his time, enjoying the silence and open space knowing the next hour would be spent in a confined space with Rossi.

He used to be excited at the thought of spending time with him but there was nothing to discuss anymore. He had asked all the questions he had about cases the older man had worked, questions about books he had written and questions about the behavioral science unit. Now that he thought about it, everything used to be much more exciting. It felt like there was a war in his head, a part of him was bored with his life and the rest of him was thinking about how ungrateful he was. The FBI had made exemptions for him to be in the field and allowed to join the BAU without any experience in law enforcement. There was even article about him being allowed to join the team. Spencer could read at 20,000 words per minute when the conditions were correct. He could recall things he had read at the same speed. This meant it took less than a second for almost three hundred word article to go through his mind.

_BAU's Newest Member_

_By Paul Milworth_

_It's not everyday the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accepts a new member to their elite team. Even more rare is the addition of a 22 year-old to the team._

"_Agent Spencer Reid has a gifted mind," said team leader Special Supervisory Agent Jason Gideon whose own resume dates back to the very beginning of the BAU. "He is young, and while he had never served law enforcement, I see him as an integral part of the future of the BAU."_

_Others in the FBI community are surprised such a young man would be named to the FBI's elite, but when asked, Agent Reid has this to say. "My age is not the issue. Certainly, when dealing with an emotional situation it can be difficult to accept bad news. It's one of the reasons logic needs to become a more prominent state of being. Logically speaking, I'm the most qualified for the job."_

_Indeed, with three doctorate degrees from Cal Tech already, and a staggering IQ of 187 (higher than Einstein's, reportedly) as well as an eidetic memory, there is no psychological exam or text the FBI could put in front of him he could not ace inside of an hour. But what about the social aspects of the job? Knowing how to talk to victim's families and dealing with local police are two facets law enforcement types will tell you are impossible to learn from a book._

"_It's one of the reasons I have brought him aboard," said Gideon. "With a little tutelage and some field experience there will be nothing Agent Reid will not be able to accomplish with this team."_

Rossi was already on the ground floor when Spencer excited the stairwell. He silently followed the older man to the black SUV. It was still cold outside, probably not any higher than forty degrees fahrenheit. He didn't shiver though, the parking lot wasn't far away from the building. Rossi unlocked the drivers door then used the centre console locking controls to unlock the passenger door. After hearing the sound of the passenger side being unlocked Spencer opened the door, removed his bag and put it where the pedals would be if he was on the drivers side, got in, shut the door behind him and put on his seatbelt.

Spender didn't drive often, he opted for public transport when it was available and there wasn't any way he could comfortably walk to his destination. He had ridden a bicycle before he got his drivers license and probably still would ride a bike if he could get away with riding on the side-walk. He was too old for that now and would be expected to ride on the road with traffic. One percent of all emergency room visits a year were related to bicycling. Even if he could get away with riding on the footpath he probably wouldn't ride to work, too much of a distance. It was much more convenient to take a train to Quantico instead of driving. If he was driving he wouldn't be able to do other tasks on the way to work. Sure, the train had downsides like being full of strangers but he would rather be sitting with strangers than on the road with them. He thought about the woman that had poked him on the train that morning, she seemed frustrated. But at what? He tapped his fingers on his knees while thinking. He couldn't remember doing anything to directly to upset her. She was probably near the end of her shift and had to deal with New Year shenanigans. When taking the train on a holiday or the day after there was a much higher chance of something unpleasant happening. Usually, the train smelt more like body odour than usual and everyone seemed annoyed. Fines were given out more frequently the morning after a holiday, normally they were for alcohol consumption and smoking. Perhaps she assumed he was under the influence of something because he didn't notice her until she poked him. If he saw her again he would apologise for the misunderstanding.

"Where were you?" Rossi asked, glancing over to Spencer while on a red light.

"Hm?" Spencer kept his eyes fixed on the road.

"Brunch," Rossi clarified.

Brunch? _Oh, brunch._

"I didn't get the memo," He said, forcing his tone to stay casual. It hurt his feelings to be excluded but he would never admit it out loud. Sometimes he didn't know if he was overly sensitive because of his abandonment issues or if his feelings were just easily hurt.

To make it seem like it didn't affect him he decided to lighten the mood with a joke. "I'm not really a brunch person, I'm breatharian."

He waited a few seconds, expecting some kind of gesture or comment from Rossi that showed he understood the joke. After ten seconds of silence he decided to explain his joke.

"I…, uh, Breatharians believe that sunlight and oxygen give them enough sustenance for living. Some don't even consume water," He explained while moving his hands as he talked.

"Is that why you were slow on the last case? Not eating?" Rossi pushed down on the accelerator as the light turned green.

"W-what?" Spencer spluttered, Rossi thought he was being serious. "No. I don't believe in Breatharianism. I was trying to make a joke," He said quickly, hands moving faster. There was another silence but this time Rossi broke it.

"No jokes in front of the students this time. No philosophy jokes, no quantum physics knock knock jokes."

"No jokes." Spencer agreed.

People rarely understood his jokes. He remembered going to a recruitment event, not unlike this one, and telling his existentialists joke. Only Paul Rothschild understood that joke and he turned out to be Henry Grace. Henry Grace murdered seven women and attempted to kill some of the BAU team as revenge for Rossi aiding in the arrest of his brother William Grace. Henry had even suggested another punchline for the joke and Spencer had found it amusing.

He started to think about what Rossi had just said. 'Slow on the last case.'

It was the word 'Slow' that confused him. He was quick with his hands from practicing magic tricks and his legs were long so walking and running slowly wasn't a problem.

Mentally, he was the opposite of slow. He had an eidetic memory. His eidetic memory allowed him to recall things he had read. Normally it worked by someone asking a question, not necessarily directed at him, and everything he's read on that subject would go through his mind and he would answer the question. He definitely wasn't slow, even on his worst days. Rossi probably meant 'Slower'. Not 'Slower than average' but 'Slower than your average'. Yes, that made sense.

Spencer could also recall things he had heard. Although that not might be completely due to his eidetic memory. His mother, despite her illness, is a smart woman. After learning her son had an eidetic memory she researched the subject. Eidetic memory was normally found in early childhood and almost always disappeared by adulthood. She understood the kind of advantage it would give him and decided to do memory improving tasks with him to make sure she was doing everything possible for her son keep the ability. This included reading, sometimes multiple pages, and having Spencer recite it back to her. She understood that she needed to nurture the ability and that if he didn't use it he would lose it.

He leaned forward slightly to pick up his bag, taking out the water bottle and his chocolate. He tore open the chocolate packet and took a bite. He liked chocolate, it was easy to eat. He didn't need to chew, it melted in his mouth. No food preparation or dish washing was required when your meal was chocolate. He finished two thirds of it before putting it back in his bag for later. He had gotten used to only eating two thirds of his chocolate bars after Emily joined the team. Emily loved chocolate and occasionally asked for some, Spencer wasn't good at saying no. After a few weeks of her asking he would put a third on her desk without being asked.

"_Love chemicals controlled by phenethylamine, also found in-"_

"_Chocolate. I love chocolate," Emily interrupted._

"_Peas too! It's also found in peas!" __He said excitedly._

"_Peas?"_

"_Reid?" Hotch started to walk in front of him._

"_Indeed, some people become…-"_

_"Reid, stop. Please." Hotch ordered._

He softly sighed at the memory, people have probably been wanting him to stop talking since he joined the BAU. He made a mental note to write down all of the interactions where someone wanted him to stop talking. It would help him stick to his resolution. He knew he had some disorganised speech patterns that sometimes annoyed the other team members. Sometimes he spoke too quickly and only stopped when the person he was talking to started to walk away. He had stopped in the middle of words and sentences before. Sometimes he unintentionally changed topics because something he was speaking about reminded him of something else and on rare occasions he repeated the same word multiple times in a sentence. His disorganised speech couldn't be completely unbearable though, he wouldn't be in a car with Rossi and about to talk to students if it was.


	7. Chapter 7

The room had five rows, each row had five seats. There were twenty-seven males and five females. They normally talked to larger amounts of students but the room was 80% full which was slightly higher than average. Rossi had introduced him, he never needed to introduce himself when he was with another member of the team. His only interaction with the students so far was giving them a low wave while he was being introduced. He noticed Rossi looking at him several times, giving him signals it was okay to take over. He ignored the signals and kept his eyes on the projected slideshow. Spencer managed to stay silent until the question and answers portion of the presentation.

"Reid, internships," Rossi looked at him and there was some laughter from the students, Rossi had obviously tried to get his attention more than once.

"Intern..Oh, um," Spencer turned to face the students. "There's multiple summer intern positions with the FBI but you can only apply at one location at a time. There's a volunteer and honor program, the honor program is a paid position. Interns normally work on research projects. There will be drug testing and fingerprinting fingerprinting."

For once repeating words had an advantage, Rossi didn't prompt him to speak to the students for the rest of the session.

On the ride home he thought about the drug policy, he felt slightly guilty about breaking it. It didn't matter though, it wasn't like anyone confronted him. Hotch knew he went to support meetings and Morgan looked at him whenever drugs were mentioned but they weren't any direct confrontations or acknowledgments. No one asked him to stop using. No one even asked him if he stopped. He wondered if they talked about it with each other. He wondered how often they talked about him when he wasn't around. He could use a recording device for when he wasn't around but it would be pretty obvious and illegal if he started recording his coworkers conversations. Firstly, the recording device would need to be near them. His desk was away from his team members and they would notice if he suddenly started leaving things on their desks, even if they were disguised as other things. Also, it was illegal and wrong to be spying on his coworkers and friends. They were his friends. JJ had made Spencer the godfather of her son. The team had helped him with Maeve and Riley Jenkins. He went to movies and conventions with Garcia. Hotch didn't fire him when he used drugs or when he protected Owen. He remembered a time where he thought of his team members as family but he just wasn't feeling it anymore. He looked at Rossi and felt nothing. He tried to think about the last time he actually felt something. It was this morning, when he realized they had brunch without him.

"What is it?" Rossi interrupted his thoughts.

"What's what?" Spencer asked nonchalantly.

"You're too quiet today."

Spencer bit the inside of his lip, if he talked too much they didn't like him. If he didn't talk enough they grew suspicious.

"Just thinking."

"Care to share?"

He looked out the window next to him. "Just thinking about my Mother," He lied.

Rossi nodded and decided not to question him any further, he knew Spencer's mother was a touchy subject.

Even if he wasn't thinking about his mother before he definitely was now. He thought about his strange childhood. Things weren't completely normal when his father was around, Spencer spent most of his time with his mother doing memory exercises or being read to. He was read to a lot more when his father left, it was't unusual for him and his mother to spend a whole day in her bed while she read. He missed being in the same bed as her, when he stayed at the Sanitarium he could only sleep on the couch. But she wasn't there as ofter anymore, she was staying with her brother Dexter and his wife Ethel or she was on a supervised vacation. Spencer hadn't talked to his aunt or uncle since the day he turned eighteen and had his mother sent away. He felt slightly bad about never contacting his uncle after that day, he wanted him to know it wasn't his fault and that it was his wife's. He had considered telling his mother by letter but he didn't know how she would react. His mother was convinced that a mother knew when someone was wrong and he didn't know how she would react to finding out her sister in law was abusing him while she was under the same roof. Also writing a letter meant it was on paper, anyone could read it.

He allowed himself to have one of he lollies he purchased that morning because Rossi had noticed he was being quiet. It didn't taste as good as he thought, he felt the same about the chocolate. It was probably because he was having a bad day. He planned out the rest of his day in the order things were likely to happen. He needed to talk to Garcia when he was back at the office. He needed to clean his desk, he did at the start of every year. If he saw the lady from that morning on the train he would need to apologies for accidentally ignoring her. He needed to write down all of the interactions where people had wanted him to stop talking. He needed to find something to eat for dinner. He needed to check his mail. He needed to finish the chocolate in his bag. All of the tasks were easy and simple but all he wanted to do was go home and rest. Maybe he was finally starting to feel as tired as he looked.


	8. Chapter 8

He let himself take a break at the top of the stairs even though he was less than half a minute of moderate paced walking from his desk. He decided to finish the last third of his chocolate bar, hoping the sugar it contained would give him enough energy to make it to the coffee station. He had counted eight yawns and three episodes of microsleep between entering and leaving the stairwell.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it to the coffee station. After only three steps in the bullpen Garcia was attempting to get his attention.  
>"Reid!" Garcia started walking towards him, she had been talking with Kate at her desk.<br>Spencer looked at Garcia, then the coffee station, then back to Garcia and the coffee station one last time before giving up on getting anywhere near it. Coffee would have to wait. He followed Garcia, actually making it to her office this time. He didn't understand how she could always be cheery and bright. Even on their darkest cases she still had time to say childish phrases and be flirty with Morgan. He remembered the sexual harassment seminar.

_'So, let's talk about sexual harassment. Sexual harassment isn't always a quid pro quo arrangement. Maybe it's a conversation between two co-workers that makes you feel uncomfortable. Maybe these co-workers use phrases like 'Baby girl', 'Chocolate thunder' or 'Where's my big black twelve pack?''_

He wasn't surprised someone had reported her but even a sexual harassment seminar clearly aimed at her didn't have an effect on how she acted. He made another mental note to write down everything she had said to him that had been inappropriate. Garcia found clowns creepy because one had groped her breast but somehow she couldn't see how inappropriate she was. She was more like a clown than she knew, although her obnoxiously bright clothes and face paint was considered make-up and unique. Clowns did tricks and handed out balloon animals. Garcia pressed buttons and handed out information.

"Alright my darling, this your new phone." Garcia said while handing him a grey rectangular box.  
>"What's wrong with my current phone?" Spencer asked while inspecting the box in his hands, it had his name and identification number printed on the side and the FBI seal printed on the top.<br>"All agents will be using these phones now. They're mandatory," Garcia informed while moving to sit at the chair in front of her many screens.  
>"Why?" Spencer asked while putting the box in his satchel and taking out the empty water bottle, chocolate and candy wrapper, putting them in Garcia's black rubbish bin.<br>"Because this phone is amazing. Care to take a guess on who helped design and write the software?" Garcia grinned.  
>"You?" He guessed while taking a lollipop out of a small green bowl Garcia had set up.<br>"Correct."  
>"That's great, Garcia." He put the lollipop in his trouser pocket and started to exit the office.<br>"Where do you think you're going?"  
>"My desk?" Spencer turned his head took look at her.<br>"You didn't even open the box, I didn't show you how to turn it on or use it."  
>"It doesn't come with a manual?" He asked, slightly insulted.<br>"Well, yes.." She started.  
>"I'll come see you if I need help," He assured while leaving the office.<p>

He went straight to his desk, sitting down and sighing. He didn't know where people got the idea he didn't know how to use technology. Sure, he preferred pen and paper instead of typing and letters instead of phone calls and hard copies of files instead of tablets but that wasn't because he didn't know how to use those things. He had a computer at his desk, a laptop at home, occasionally played video games and he had fiddled with Morgan's MP3 player and phone for a prank. He went to the California institute of _Technology_. He couldn't hack like Garcia but it wasn't hard for him to learn anything and he had helped go through computers on a number of cases.

The first thing in the box was a card containing his new phone number followed by the manual and charger and then the phone. The manual took less than a minute to read, it was mostly diagrams. He turned on the phone and looked at the features, pleasantly surprised to find his team members phone numbers already in his contacts. That's when it hit him, he had a new phone number. Presumably, everyone else got their new phone last night while he went home early. He didn't get the invite for brunch because they were messaging his new number. He quickly checked his messages, nothing. He waited for a few minutes, staring at the screen and expecting a text to come through, dated for last night or this morning. Nothing. He sighed again and put the phone in his pocket with the lollipop. He put the manual and charger back in the box then put the box in his satchel.

He checked his watch, 4:45pm. His break on the stairwell must have been longer than it felt, maybe he had more than two episodes of microsleep. He held the watch up to his ear to make sure it was still ticking, it was. He swallowed, it took him over twenty minutes to go up six floors and he didn't even notice how much time he was wasting. He didn't even recall hearing the ticking in the car with Rossi. Perhaps it was related to his fatigue. He needed coffee. He waited for the coffee station to be completely empty before walking over and repeating the same routine as earlier but this time instead of washing the mug and putting it back he refilled it and bought it to his desk.

"Time to clean," He spoke to himself while reaching for his notepad. First he tested his pens, scribbling with them on his notepad to make sure they still worked. He made sure he didn't have any excess office supplies, he did. He had three rolls of sticky tape, two staplers and three pairs of scissors. He returned the excess to the supplies cupboard and grabbed a pack of five lined notebooks, A5 sized. He then moved onto his drawers. He emptied both of them and started to throw out the things he didn't need. He threw out the candy he had purchased that morning. He needed something that actually tasted good for it to be positive reinforcement but maybe he didn't need to bother with a reward system anymore. He didn't want to talk to anyone and they apparently didn't want to talk to him. He hadn't had the urge all day talk to someone about something they're not interested in and most of his team members didn't say good morning. He looked up, they weren't even in the bullpen anymore. Maybe he initiated all of the non-work related conversations and they never wanted to talk to him in the first place. Really, who ever wanted to talk to him?

His question was answered when he picked up a magazine titled 'Celebrity Sneak Peak' that had been between two files. The issue was very old, dated April 12th 2006 and featured a photo of him and Lila. He smiled slightly but put the magazine in the bin, it was time to move on. Spencer and women didn't go together. He met Lila, then he had a case involving Lila. He met Austin, she got kidnapped by Robert Parker. Maeve was murdered. There was also Blake who left because he reminded her of her deceased son and Elle left because of the Fisher King case which was all his fault.

"I told you not to think about it," He reminded himself quietly while putting everything he was keeping back in their correct spots. Maybe all the negative thoughts had caused his fatigue.

Spencer caught the 6:22pm train, the ride was uneventful. He yawned nine times and had a six minute nap. He arrived at his apartment building at 7:40pm and checked his mail. There was one letter with his address handwritten, he instantly recognised it. His mothers. Hopefully the contents of the letter would turn his awful day into a decent one.

He walked up the wooden stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, keys still out from checking his mail. He placed his keys, letter, lollipop, new phone and satchel on his kitchen counter then walked to his bedroom. He cleaned up the small mess he had made that morning, making his bed and moving the glass on his bedside table to the sink. He hated doing dishes. He had plastic plates, bowls, cups and cutlery so he could dispose of things he used instead of washing them. He didn't like the idea of a plate being used for multiple dishes and being touched by multiple people. He rarely used his plastic supplies, microwave meals normally came with their own eating utensils and if he made food in the oven or stove he could eat off the trays and out of pots.

From his satchel he removed the hooded jumper, cigarette, loose candy, old phone, new phone box and the pack of five A5 notebooks. The candy went in the bin. He picked up the hooded jumper and walked to his bathroom. He put the hooded jumper in the laundry hamper then stripped, adding the clothes he had worn that day. He pulled the drawstring on the laundry hamper lining and pulled out the sack of clothing, dragging it to his bedroom. Normally he didn't drag it but he was feeling lazy. He quickly got dressed again. He put two socks on each feet, black boxer briefs, a thick long-sleeved straw yellow undershirt then his mint button up pyjama shirt with matching bottoms. He tucked the ends of his pyjama pants into his socks and put on his brown slippers. He yawned again, being comfortable wasn't helping his fatigue.

He got a grip on the sack drawstrings, wrapping them around his wrist and dragged it into the kitchen. He picked up his old and new phone, a pen and the five pack of notebooks. He put the notebooks between his upper arm and ribs, pen in mouth and two phones in the hand with the drawstring around his wrist. He used his empty hand to open and shut the door, not bothering to lock it.

Having no whites in the sack Spencer put everything into one machine. He used a scoop of powdered laundry detergent from a plastic container that sat on top of one of the three washing machines. He wasn't exactly sure who refilled the container but he had never seen it empty. The washing cycle would take forty minutes and the dryer would take fifty. He checked his watch, 7:57pm. His clothes would be clean and dry at 9:27pm. He sat on the floral patterned two-seater sofa across from the washing machines, putting his legs one of the seats. He had multiple things to do. He needed to write down all of the interactions where people had wanted him to stop talking, he needed to write down all of his interactions with Garcia that were inappropriate. He needed to add some non-work related contacts to his new phone. He closed his eyes for a few moments, deciding to start with writing down all of his inappropriate interactions with Garcia. It wouldn't take that long, how many could there possibly be?


	9. Chapter 9

To someone unaware of the word of stenography his notebooks would appear to be filled with small scribbles. Eighty percent of the country understood English and the other languages he knew were identifiable and therefore translatable. He decided on Gregg shorthand, there were many versions of the system. Many versions meant harder to translate and combined with his messy penmanship his notebooks would be near impossible to translate. He finished writing about Garcia's inappropriate interactions at 8:30pm, a fifth of the three hundred page book full. His notes got less detailed the further in the past the interaction had happened. His accounts included when it had taken place, where it had taken place, who else was there, what had happened before and after the interaction. He gave his hands a few minutes to rest, he had alternated between the two. He wasn't naturally ambidextrous so some parts of the notebook were messier but that just meant it was even harder to translate.

He ended the washing machines cycle a few seconds before it was done so he could avoid the loud sounds the machine used to signal it was finished. It was partly because he didn't want to annoy anyone at this time of night but mostly because he didn't like loud noises. He moved the bundle of damp clothing from the washer and into the dryer before sitting down again. He started to recall and write about the times where people had asked him to be quiet and the times when people had ignored what he said. After thirty minutes he took a short break, shaking his hands and cracking his knuckles. He decided he would need a third notebook for times he was insulted. Most of those accounts weren't direct, but they happened. Garcia had said she couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to him at Sci-Fi-Gate, a convention she invited him to then dragged him away from. He shouldn't have let her drag him away, he should have gone in with Kevin and Sharp. He didn't want Garcia to find him sexually attractive but it was still a disrespectful statement and there were many more like it that he could fill the third notebook up with.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the fourth and fifth notebook, maybe something positive. Good things people have said to him. Rossi had said he loved him, but that wasn't direct. Rossi had also been speaking to Garcia and said 'You know I love you both'. Rossi also talked about him enough for Ray Finnegan think he was smart and ask for help with a crossword puzzle. Garcia ended up answering the question, but maybe that was karma for the times he answered questions he wasn't asked. Ray had also referred to him as a 'kid'. That meant Rossi had done the same. Sometimes it did feel like they treated him like a kid. It was like they forgot about his PhDs and BAs. They forgot about the cases they probably wouldn't have been able to solve without him. They forgot that he had shot and killed Phillip Dowd. They forget that he had the potential to be lethal.

He felt nothing after killing Dowd. Gideon told him not knowing what he was feeling wasn't the same as not feeling but Gideon didn't understand he wasn't feeling anything. Gideon had also said he proud of him. Maybe, just maybe, he would come back one day to help with a difficult unsub. He could see it now, a case so difficult they need Gideon. He imagined the scene in his head. Him taking down an unsub with everyone watching, and Gideon would tell him how proud of him he was again. He closed his notebook and let himself fantasise. He fantasised about a case so difficult they needed Gideon, Emily, Elle, Blake and Ashley back. Everyone would be there to see him take down the unsub. Hotch, Rossi, Gideon, Morgan, Elle, Emily, Blake, JJ, Ashley, Kate and even Garcia would be there. It was a fantasy, he didn't need a logical reasons for them to all be there but they were. They would all see him take down an unsub single handedly. Gideon wouldn't be the only one proud of him, it would be all of him. They wouldn't see him as a kid anymore. They wouldn't insult his appearance or make jokes at his expense. They would listen to what he had to say. His impossible fantasy was interrupted by the dryer finishing its cycle. He giggled at his own fantasy while putting his belongings back into the sack.

In his bedroom he folded the dry clothes and thought about his fantasy again, this time adding back story to it. Thinking of reasons why they were all there. Why there were all there watching him take down the unsub alone. Ashley was easiest to explain, she was on Andi Swann's unit which Kate had also been on. Kate could have asked Ashley for help because the unsub murdered one of their unsubs. No, not specific enough. Maybe the unsub murdered someone Ashley was looking for. Yes, that made more sense. Next, Emily. Emily still helped them out occasionally it was plausible that she could help them. Blake. Blake was there because Hotch wanted her to consult on the case. Elle was a tricky one but he decided she would be there because the unsub would murder the unsubs in unsolved cases she had worked. That would be the same reason as to why Gideon was there, old cases he had worked with Rossi were being solved by the unsub.

He finished putting away his clothes and frowned, the backstory he created to his fantasy would probably make Gideon more proud of the unsub than him. He imagined himself as the unsub, solving hundreds of unsolved cases singlehandedly. Gideon would have to be proud. He would shoot the unsub in the head like he had with Dowd and he would use the Glock 26 Hotch had given him. The people he would be killing would be unsubs like Dowd so he wouldn't feel anything, it wouldn't affect his psyche. It answered the question of why he would be taking the unsub down alone, they would be too proud of him to hurt him. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to walk free and act like he never killed anyone but with all the cases solved he should be able to cut a decent deal.

He put his notebooks in his bedside drawer and took two of his sleeping pills, he was far too excited thinking about his fantasy to get to sleep on his own now. He started thinking about it in realistic detail. His signature would be leaving the case file next to the unsub, modus operandi would be one bullet to the head. Execution style. He shook his head into his pillow, that wouldn't work. He needed to avoid ballistics fingerprinting. That meant he needed a new gun that couldn't be traced to him specifically for his plan or a different M.O. He liked the idea of execution style but guns were loud, he needed something silent. Lethal injection. He would use sodium thiopental. Sodium thiopental was classified as a schedule III controlled substance but he could get his hands on some. Hydromorphone was a schedule II controlled substance and he had some of that in his bathroom. He could inject the unsubs while they're sleeping. He needed to plan who he wanted back on the team first. Solving just one of Rossi and Gideon's old cases meant Rossi would find out. He needed to save those cases for last. No, he needed a different signature. If he left the case files then they would know he had a connection to law enforcement and they might 'catch' him before Gideon has a chance to see his work. Before he chose a signature he needed a more detailed plan. He fell asleep before he could start thinking up a more detailed plan but that didn't stop him dreaming about it. In his dream he was the unsub and himself. Gideon was proud of him being the unsub and solving unsolved cases and also proud of him for shooting the unsub in the head.

He woke up after shooting his dream-self. The events before that were fuzzy but he remembered the shooting vividly. He was standing in the middle of the bullpen with people watching from the higher ground. The bullpen had no desks but there were corpses around him, next to each corpse was a case file and at their feet and evidence box. Everyone started clapping at his work and he did his usual wave, the one he substituted for shaking hands of strangers, before pressing his revolver against his head and shooting himself. His mother had watched, she was standing with his father. Hotch, Rossi, Gideon, Max Ryan and Mateo Cruz were standing together. Elle, Emily, Kate, Ashley and Blake were standing on the stairs, each on a different step. It was hard to remember everyone but he definitely noticed Lila with Ethan and Parker Dunley.

He got up and took a step before sitting back down on his bed. He felt dizzy, he was going to faint if he kept walking. This happened after under eating for multiple days in a row. He yawned and waited for the dizziness to pass. He wanted to go back to sleep to see the aftermath of his suicide. He had plenty of sick days and annual leave days. He got thirteen sick days a with four hours of pay and twenty annual leave days with six hours of pay per year. He rarely used either. "Sick day," He told himself while getting back under the blankets, laying on his side and hugging one of his pillows. He picked up his watch and bought it to his face, 7:40am. Hotch wouldn't be expecting him for just over two hours, he would probably get a call in two and a half hours asking where he was.

He started thinking about his dream again and wondered how everyone would react if he was actually about to put a bullet in his brain in the middle of the bullpen. He would probably be shot in the arm and sent to a hospital. He thought about shooting himself while in bed. How long would it take for people to realise he was no longer alive. He could find out, all he had to do was ignore the call when it came and see how long it took for someone knock on his door. He visualised people finding his body in his head, first with Morgan. He imagined Morgan kicking down his apartment door and finding him on the floor with his brain matter splattered on the wall. Would he break down crying or get angry? Would he even emotionally react? Probably not. He would probably call someone to take away the body, contact Hotch and let him inform the others.

He wondered how it would feel to shoot himself in the head. He didn't believe in the afterlife, the gentle lights and shadowy figures he remembered while be resuscitated by Tobias were probably the result of drugs. He would probably feel cold and darkness like Emily did, on the off chance he would feel something. Shooting himself had a high chance of making death instant. If he wanted to feel death he needed something slower, overdosing or slicing and artery. There were so many things to overdose on and so many arteries to choose from. It would be easier to go for his radial or ulnar artery. Most overdoses were painful, he didn't want to die in pain. He could slice his artery with a scalpel, like when he cut Theodore Bryar. Death by Exsanguination. Cutting himself would probably hurt but bleeding wasn't painful. Drowning was supposed to be peaceful but drowning himself meant he needed water. He would also need a weight to keep him in the water, his body would also try to get oxygen. If he was successful he would need to leave a note telling people what he had done so they didn't class him as a missing person.

He couldn't leave a suicide note. Sometimes he wished Gideon didn't leave him a letter, he spent far too much time analysing it and rereading it. He didn't want anyone to have his suicide note stuck in their head. He imagined JJ finding his body in his bathroom, wrist slit with a scalpel and a blood puddle on the floor. Would it remind her of her sister Rosaline? What would she tell Henry? He wondered what reason they would come up for his suicide. They would probably just think he couldn't handle the job or that it had something to do with Maeve. He sat up and stretched, what would the reason actually be? He didn't have a reason to commit suicide so whatever conclusions everyone drew about his death would be wrong. That was another reason why he he couldn't leave a note, it wouldn't be able to answer anyones questions and wouldn't comfort anyone.

Of course this was all hypothetical and he wasn't going to commit suicide or homicide, he was just fantasising. He would experiment though, he wasn't going to answer the phone when it rang and he was going to see how long it took for someone to show up at his door. If asked why he didn't call he would say he was waiting to be called so he didn't interrupt anything. He sat up slowly and turned both of his phones off. He kept the new one on his bedside table and put the other in the drawer. Still being slow to prevent dizziness he got out of bed and went into bathroom, using the toilet then deciding not to shower. On the small chance someone check on him in person today he needed to look like he needed to take a sick day. He wouldn't look nearly as ill after a shower. In his room he grabbed a pillow and blanket before moving into his sitting room. His sitting room was connected to the kitchen with a half wall, he got comfortable on his three-seater brown leather couch. He laid on his side, facing his back to the room. Again, he hugged his pillow while using it. The couch wasn't as warm as his bed but he couldn't stay in bed all day. If someone did check up on him he probably wouldn't hear them knocking.

Even if someone did knock on his door they wouldn't just assume he was dead because he wasn't answering. If he answered the door it wouldn't answer his question of how long it would take everyone to realise he wasn't living. When they realised he wasn't living, how long would it take for his funeral to be arranged? Who would attend? Would Gideon be there? Would his Father? Aunt Ethel? Who would arrange the funeral? Who would give speeches? What would his obituary say? Would he be buried or cremated? Who would clean up the blood? Would there be an open casket? What would he be dressed in? Where would his possessions go? His money? Would the people he played chess with at the park find out or would they just think he stopped playing again? How many cases would go unsolved? Will anyone blame themselves? Would his co-workers discuss it and try and figure out why he did it?

Some of those questions he would never know the answer to but for now he would just tackle one question at a time. How long would it take for them to realise he was no longer living? All he had to do was stay in his apartment and see how long it took for someone to get into his apartment and see his corpse. Well, living body. He was playing pretend. No wonder they treated him like a kid sometimes. 


End file.
